


The Gathering Storm

by Lady_Aran



Series: Lions Will Rise [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Brienne of Tarth, BAMF Jaime Lannister, Background Relationships, But He's Not The Stupidest Lannister, Childbirth, Drama, Drunk!Cersei, Established Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Implied Cersei Lannister/Loras Tyrell, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, Jaime Lannister is a Big Softie, Lannister Family Drama, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pregnancy, Protective Jaime Lannister, Romance, Tags May Change, That's Lord and Lady Lannister To Y'all, Tywin Lannister's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:22:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Aran/pseuds/Lady_Aran
Summary: Set two weeks after the end of "Winds of Change", Lord Ser Jaime Lannister and his pregnant wife, Lady Ser Brienne Lannister are mere days from arriving at Casterly Rock, the pinnacle of the Westerlands. While they settle and prepare for the birth of their first child, however, an ominous storm has already begun to gather to the east.A storm with the potential to change the balance of power in Westeros forever...**3/9/20: Had disastrous problems with my PC since the last time I updated and had to start with a fresh install of Windows 10 :( Looks like my hiatus will be a bit longer, my lovelies. I apologize**
Relationships: Bronn & Tyrion Lannister, Cersei Lannister/Loras Tyrell (Metioned), Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth & Original Character(s), Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Tommen Baratheon/Margaery Tyrell
Series: Lions Will Rise [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551592
Comments: 14
Kudos: 83





	1. Closer To Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meriwyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meriwyn/gifts), [WeirdDaydreamingFangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeirdDaydreamingFangirl/gifts).



> Greetings, my lovelies! First, I'm sure you've all seen by now that my project with Meriwyn, "From The Ashes (Lions Will Rise)" has, sadly, been discontinued and I'd be remiss if I didn't explain why. It basically came down to a growing lack of interest -- that, and we found Jon and Daenerys INCREDIBLY boring to write. It was almost like as soon as it came to write scenes for them, our writing muses said "nope." and refused to budge. So to anyone who left comments and/or kudos, we're sorry it came to this but we thank you for your support nevertheless. <3 
> 
> Now, with that in mind, rather than let the writing from "Ashes" go to waste, I'll be recycling bits of it for use in this current fic (I'm flying solo on this one like I did with "Winds" y'all) which is the sequel to "Winds of Change" so before reading this one, I HIGHLY suggest you stop, go back, and read that one. Otherwise, you won't know what the hell is going on. 
> 
> Also, expect this fic to have a bit more fluff and sweet moments (courtesy of Casterly Rock's Lord Dork, Jaime Lannister and his poor wife, Brienne Lannister) compared to "Winds".

After having spent the past fortnight between being saddled atop a horse, feeling sick to her stomach, snapping involuntarily at her poor lord husband, or reminding herself that she would begin to feel like herself again soon, Lady Ser Brienne Lannister had never been so glad to see such a ramshackle-looking inn in her entire life. According to Jaime, they were now somewhere between Deep Den and the seat of House Doggett. Like most inns, it was filled with weary-eyed travelers seeking a night or two of refuge, a hot meal and a feather bed, or a sating of their carnal desires. But not everyone was simply an honest person looking for a place to stay for the night. There was no telling what sort of unsavory fellows lingered about the place, regardless of the fact that Lord Ser Jaime Lannister had, finally, returned home to rule the Westerlands in his lord-father's place.

Truth be told, as tired as the two of them were, any place looked as good as any to rest for the night and fill their bellies; for Brienne in particular, the rigors of being with child had been particularly hard in the fortnight since leaving Rivermouth. If she wasn't puking or dry heaving, she was nauseous on account of being adverse to certain smells. There was also a generous part of her that wondered for how much longer she would be able to properly mount and ride her horse; at four moons, Brienne's belly had begun to flourish and she now had a slight swell to her midsection and the long periods of time spent in the saddle only helped to aggravate her back. She prayed to the Seven that they would reach Casterly Rock soon.

It hadn't all been bad, however. Both she and Jaime had found an odd sort of comfort in the whole thing once she started to develop what Jaime playfully referred to as her “cubby bump” -- and rather than feel disdain over the way the pregnancy had more or less been the gods' way of reminding her that, swords, armor and knightly vows aside, she was still very much a woman, Brienne had begun to embrace herself for who she was, and her body for what it was truly capable of, rather than run from it.

“Well, we’re here at our rooms so let’s get you into bed and I’ll see about having some food and a bath brought up. Does this please you, my lady wife?” asked Jaime while Brienne unlocked the heavy chamber door with the inn key.

  
  


Brienne drew a breath just as she felt the lock turn. “I think it sounds wonderful. I'm bloody exhausted.”

  
  


Their rooms were quaint. Not extravagant as Jaime's quarters had been in the Red Keep, but just barely large enough so that they weren't on top of each other. There was a small hearth against the wall, her fires already burning warm and bright. A full-sized bed against the adjacent wall. A small table and two simple wooden chairs where they would sup tonight and break their fasts in the morning. And, perhaps best of all, due to Jaime's status and prestige, it – and whatever else Lord and Lady Lannister desired during their stay -- was on the house, courtesy of the innkeep!

  
  


Brienne wore a look of blessed relief on her face as she stood in the doorway, eyes fixed on the simple bed in front of her. She felt like she could sleep for a fortnight and it still wouldn't be enough... Her hand moved to caress the gentle swell of child beneath her gambeson. “We're here, my little love,” she smiled before stepping into the room and closing the door behind her.

  
  


Jaime, having hung his sword belt on a small hook next to the bed, soon came to join her in an embrace, his hand splaying lovingly against her stomach. His gaze fell to his hand. “Yes. And we're getting closer to home. It shouldn't be much longer now, a few more days at most. There's no place in the entire realm more beautiful than Casterly Rock – except, perhaps, Mumma's island of Tarth,” chuckled Jaime with wonder in his eyes. “I'm quite certain she will want to take you there to meet your grandfather, Lord Selwyn, when you're a bit older.”

  
  


Brienne couldn't help but chuckle in response, remembering the day of her and Jaime's wedding and the banquet that followed. The way her father's long-held opinion of Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer had softened once he'd glimpsed the true love and respect Jaime held for his beloved child, the only man out of his daughter's three prior betrothals to have done so; the way her father's imposing facade had crumbled when she told him he was soon to be a grandfather. He'd been so overjoyed by the news that he nearly made poor Jaime choke on his bite of pigeon pie after slapping the lion hard on his back!

  
  


“I would like to yes, Jaime. I only wish...he could be there when the babe is born.”

  
  


“Who says he can't?” asked Jaime. “Once we reach the Rock, I'll have Maester Creylen send a raven to Tarth, inviting the Evenstar to be an honored guest of Casterly Rock.”

  
  


Brienne smiled, her arms drawing around Jaime's neck. “You...you would truly do that for me?”

  
  


Jaime gazed long and hard into his wife's eyes. “I would do anything for you, my lady.” He flicked his thumb in tight circles around Brienne's stomach. “For both of you.”

  
  


His name fell breathless from Brienne's lips before she engulfed his own in a deep kiss she hoped was enough to convey just how much she loved him, for words had managed to escape her.

  
  


“I'll see about that bath and food,” smiled Jaime before parting from her to leave the small room.

  
  


Once Jaime had gone, Brienne stood alone in the middle of the room and gave a great stretch of her arms whilst trying in vain to stifle a yawn. As she stretched away the many knots and tension in her muscles, her pulse suddenly thrummed in her ears and her blood hummed with newfound vigor. She unbuckled _Oathkeeper_ from her waist and hung it next to its sister sword.

  
  


She gazed pensively at the twin swords. _They say it's bad luck for a sword as fine as Jaime's to remain nameless._ Her gazed moved to her belly and her hand stroking it. “What say you, little one? Any ideas? …..Nothing, hm?” She began toward the bed. “I reckon we'll have to work on that, in addition to deciding on what to name you...”

  
  


Brienne uttered an audible sigh of relief the moment her tired bulk settled on the bed. She was exhausted. Her back, shoulders and thighs ached from the day's ride, while her stomach grumbled from hunger. She blinked slowly once, twice, and on the third time her heavy eyelids refused to open...

The next thing she knew, Jaime was gently shaking her awake.

  
  


“Love,” he whispered. “Wake up, our bath and food is here.”

  
  


“Hmm?” Brienne hummed, her eyes still closed. She could hear Jaime thanking the innkeep and telling them they would be fine from here, and then the door closing. When she finally opened her eyes, she noticed a tub steaming in the middle of the room and Jaime shirtless, munching on whatever food they had just been brought.

  
  


“Come eat, love, so I can get you naked in that bathtub,” Jaime suggested, giving her one of his sly grins as he helped her to sit up. Brienne rolled her eyes but let him lead her to the small table in the corner of their room.

  
  


“Oh hush, you insatiable lout,” she quipped before playfully swatting him on his backside.

  
  


They ate quietly, both of them ravenously hungry. Hot venison stew with crusty bread with butter and honey, and small jugs of ale and milk made up their meal. Much to Jaime's relief, Brienne had clearly regained her appetite in a big way. He'd watched her go from suffering from crippling morning sickness and being unable to stomach even simple bread to wolfing down her meal with newfound gusto.

  
  


Brienne was surprised at how satisfying it was, her belly pleasantly full and warm. When she was finished, she leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes and sighed happily. “That was wonderful. I didn't realize just how famished I was.”

  
  


Jaime smiled at her. “It gave me great pleasure to watch you feast, Brienne. That's one less worry on my mind.“ He finished his cup of ale and stood. “Would my lady care to join me for a bath?”

  
  


Brienne smiled at him and nodded before taking hold of Jaime's offered hand. He lead them to the tub, which was thankfully large enough to hold the both of them with some creative maneuvering of their legs.

  
  


Jaime reached to undo the many laces of her gambeson, but Brienne, spurred on by the warmth in her belly, was quicker and began to unlace her garment with deft precision; and as she did so, Jaime found himself positively captivated by the way her long fingers moved down the length of the gambeson until there were no more ties to unlace. Brienne also made short work of his breeches before moving to untie her own.

  
  


Jaime leaned forward and placed soft kisses on Brienne’s bear claw scars, making his way across her collarbones, and eventually buried his face in her strong neck. Brienne gasped and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Jaime slid his arms around her waist and pulled her closer against him.

  
  


“You feel so good,” he whispered against her neck. “It’s been far too long.” His hand wandered down to her buttocks to give her a good squeeze.

  
  


Brienne smiled at him and buried her hands into his hair, directing his face away from her neck to capture his lips with hers. Jaime groaned softly into her mouth, his hand squeezing her buttocks once more.

  
  


“We should probably get into the tub before it cools,” Brienne chuckled against his lips.

  
  


“Let me get in first,” Jaime suggested before bringing himself from Brienne's embrace to step carefully – Brienne made certain to assist him – into the tub.

  
  


Once he settled, Jaime rested his back against the head of the bath, groaning loudly as the steaming water embraced his tired body. “Ah, yes. I haven't enjoyed a bath this much since Harrenhal.”

  
  


Brienne took Jaime's offered hand and climbed in to join him. She wedged herself between his muscled legs before reclining back against his chest.

  
  


“Indeed,” Brienne hummed with content as the water lapped against her body. “I think we were both grateful for that bit of solace, given the circumstances.”

  
  


Jaime drew his arms around her and once again began kissing the scars on her neck. Brienne broke out in gooseflesh and laid her head back onto his shoulder. “Hmm, Jaime...” she breathed whilst melting into his touch. “You're right...it _has_ been much too long...”

  
  


Jaime’s hand and stump began wandering. His hand went up to caress her breasts while his stump slid down to stroke her belly. She hissed at the tender fullness of her breasts against the palm of his calloused hand, his unmistakable presence already hardening with desire against her lower back. Brienne surrendered to his touch, and her mind became pleasantly hazy between her full stomach and the heat from the water...

  
  


They took turns loving and bathing each other until the bathwater became lukewarm and they were forced from the tub. Jaime clambered up out of the bath, only to hold his hand out to Brienne with a grin, his canines glinting.

  
  


Brienne took hold of Jaime's hand and climbed out of the tub. She reached for the pair of roughspun towels that had been placed next to the tub, draping one around herself and tossing the other to Jaime, who was sitting patiently atop the bed grinning like a cocksure fool as naked as his nameday and dripping from the bath.

  
  


She scolded him as if he were her child. “Wrap yourself, you lout. You're going to get the bedding all wet.”

  
  


Jaime huffed before fumbling to unfurl the towel the towel in his lap, haphazardly laying it out to cover the damp spot made by his ass and thighs, whereupon he sat and covered himself. “There,” he acknowledged, sounding oddly proud of himself. He then beckoned Brienne to him with a wag of his forefinger. “Now, come here, love.”

  
  


Brienne crossed the small room with ease to stand within arms length of Jaime. He gazed up at her, his hand gripping her towel and pulling it slowly from her body as if she were a gift. Even after all they'd been through, after all the days and nights they'd spent together during their excursion through the Riverlands and later, inside the Red Keep, naked underneath the covers, Brienne still couldn't help herself from blushing between Jaime's smoldering, sharp eyes.

  
  


Brienne hissed between clenched teeth as his thumb played lazily with her nipple.

  
  


Jaime's face was pressed against her hip, his tongue busy trailing over a scar. Pleasure hummed in his throat.

  
  


Brienne gripped his broad shoulder in one hand whilst combing through his damp mane with her right, sucking air in through her teeth upon registering Jaime's kiss to a spot just shy of where her tuft of coarse blonde curls began before capturing her gaze with his own.

  
  


Brienne drew her arms carefully around his shoulders while surrendering to the languid movements of his lips and tongue and settled herself down to sit in his lap, her thighs straddling his waist. She sensed Jaime's hand and stump beginning to wander away from her face to the back of her neck...and down further still along the muscles of her back, his calloused fingertips tracing along her many blemishes and scars and rousing a twinge deep in her belly.

“Jaime...,” she breathed. He was lapping hungrily at the base of her neck.

  
  


“Need you. Now. All of you,” Jaime pleaded whilst giving her bottom a squeeze.

Brienne regarded him for a quiet moment, still sitting in his lap, when a soft smile curved her lips. She reached to tenderly cup his bearded cheek. “Then I am yours, my lord....”

Taking hold of his hand and careful hold of his stump, Brienne helped Jaime to recline down to the surface of the bed...


	2. Tavern Troubles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord and Lady Lannister make a stop in the town of Doggett, some two days away from arriving at Casterly Rock and Lannisport. As they partake in a bit of rest, food and drink inside a local tavern, Brienne makes a discovery outside that has the potential to change her and Jaime's life forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, my lovelies! To those that celebrate, Happy Thanksgiving! Hope y'all had a good one, with lots of yummy food and all that good stuff! 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and I think it shows. Still, I'm always nervous when it comes to posting a new chapter. I hope y'all like it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

Jaime and Brienne left the small inn the next morning shortly before the day's first light after breaking their fasts over porridge drizzled with honey and slices of dark bread with butter. And once again, Jaime had taken pleasure in watching Brienne able to enjoy her meal without the threat of crippling morning sickness...or throwing it back up for that matter. It truly looked as if the worst was behind her.

But that afternoon, however, having reached the small town of Doggett, Brienne suggested they stop at the local tavern to rest and eat. One look at her tired face had Jaime in agreement. Exhausted and famished, they had rode hard for hours over mountainous, uneven terrain, stopping only to relieve themselves. They had made such great time that Jaime surmised them to be within two days of arriving at Casterly Rock and neighboring Lannisport.

As he secured his horse to the nearby hitching post, Jaime couldn't help but stop and look at Brienne hobbling her own mount and the ever so slight presence of their cub beneath her gambeson. While he found great joy in the babe's ever growing presence, it also scared him in ways nothing ever had before. Nothing. He considered his late night trysts with his sister more exhilarating than terrifying, like the thick of a battle or a dance of swords. He'd relished all of them with unwavering confidence, knowing there was nothing to fear when it came right down to it – his incestuous relationship he would take to the grave; he was a member of the most powerful House in Westeros; and next to Ser Barristan Selmy, considered his abilities to be without parallel in all the Seven Kingdoms.

But one look at his stump poking out of the sleeve of his red leather jacket, and it was all Jaime Lannister needed to be reminded that he was no longer that man. He was no longer the Golden Lion, having been reborn as something different. A crippled lion, yes, but also one far more conscious of the dangers provided by the unknown now that he could no longer simply hack and slash his way through whatever – or whomever – got in his way.

How could he ever hope to protect his family with one stupid hand?

Although Brienne hadn't explicitly stated otherwise, Jaime could see just how much the morning's ride had taxed her as he looked at her sitting across from him at the table, picking listlessly at her half-eaten kidney pie, her usually ponderous, sapphire eyes appearing heavy and sullen.

“You look tired, love. Perhaps it was good that we stopped, then.” Jaime conceded before shoveling a forkful of the hearty pie into his mouth.

The table grew quiet for a few moments while Jaime masticated his bear-sized bite of food. “...I knew I'd been too hasty when I said I believed the worst was behind me,” Brienne replied before her gaze returned to her half-eaten pie. “We were making such great time, too.”

Jaime reached across the table to softly grasp her dominant hand, having swallowed his bite. Brienne looked up at him. “And we're _still_ making great time, Brienne. Besides, when our cub speaks, you need to listen to what he or she is trying to tell you.”

“I'm aware, Jaime,” Brienne whispered with a hint of annoyance. “And I'm afraid our little lion is telling me to take in some fresher air, lest I throw up. Excuse me, Jaime.”

Jaime watched her rise from the bench, his eyes wide with alarm. “Are you going to be sick?” he asked whilst rising from the bench.

“Don't get up, please.” Brienne replied, one hand attempting to hide the small swell of her midsection from any eyes that attempted to pry; she knew, however, that she wouldn't be able to mask it for much longer, as even her gambeson had become rather snug across her stomach in recent weeks.

Outside, Brienne braced herself against the stone tavern wall, arms trembling as the nausea took root inside her belly. _Just breathe_ , she reminded herself. _Slowly. Deeply. In and out..._

Her mantra was cut short, however, by the sudden sound of a man shouting a command, followed by another man's voice. Both sounded brutally drunk and Brienne surmised they were probably fighting after having had their fill of liquid courage, and merely went back to trying to still the rolling tide of sickness sloshing about her stomach.

It was what she heard next, however, that spurred her into action: _“Mercy!”_ A tender aged boy's voice, shrill and terrified. Brienne's noble heart quickened and before she knew it, she was standing in the back alley of the tavern where the stench of stale piss and vomit hung thick in the air, and a young boy cowered in one corner while two drunken men with swords – sellswords, Brienne assumed – towered over him with their blades drawn.

Brienne's hand settled around _Oathkeeper's_ hilt out of pure instinct, clutching it so tightly that her bare knuckles turned white. Her brow moved into a slight, angry, slant. “Stop!”

The pair turned to confront her. “Piss off, you son of a whore!” snarled the taller – and older -- of the two men.

“Aye, is that a woman?” asked the younger man.

Brienne took a step forward while the men began to laugh and heckle her. Yet the lady knight remained unperturbed by their attempts to mock her into surrendering. Instead, she kept moving forward, hand clutching _Oathkeeper,_ until she was face to face with the drunken sellswords. “I've no wish to shed blood before the child... But take another step towards him and it will be your blood painting these walls.”

The men shared a look of skeptic surprise.

“She's mad, this one,” said the tall one with a look of amused disbelief. He looked at Brienne, his lips curling into a grin against his rotten, yellowed teeth, breath sour and putrid. Brienne pushed back against her nausea. “Aren't ya, woman? Be a good wench and go back to the stables. I'm sure the studs miss you.”

Brienne flashed the drunkard a grin before head-buttting him with a roar and pulling his legs out from under him with sweep of her own. Before he could react, _Oathkeeper's_ point was poised at his scruffy neck.

“Yield.” Brienne commanded. “I've no wish to kill you, ser.”

The still-dazed – and now furious – drunken man grit his teeth, his bloodshot eyes blazing with fury. “I dunt yield for ugly whores!” he snarled in defiance.

“Look away, child.” Brienne said to the boy still hunkered down in the corner, before driving _Oathkeeper_ clean through the man's neck. A dark red puddle began to pool almost immediately beneath his neck and fill in the many cracks and crevices of the cobblestone ground like thousands of tiny dry riverbeds.

Brienne withdrew _Oathkeeper_ from the dead man's neck with an audible _squelch_ , her gaze training itself on the younger man. His sword lay at his boots in surrender.

“Mercy, m'lady!”

Brienne wiped her blade clean on the sleeve of her gambeson, but didn't sheathe it just yet, lest the sellsword catch her off guard. “Not until you tell me your reasons for threatening the boy,” she demanded calmly.

The truth spilled from his mouth as if a floodgate had opened. “We was paid by the tavern owner to take care of the whelp 'cause the little runt kept stealin' food that wadn't his!”

He hadn't explicitly stated it, but Brienne was keen enough to know what the man had meant by _take care_. They'd been paid to kill him, and Brienne felt the anger build inside her chest in response.

Her hand pulled slightly up around _Oathkeeper's_ hilt. “What is your name, craven?”

The man's voice broke beneath the threat of _Oathkeeper_. “D-Denton, m-m'lady."

Brienne nodded whilst struggling to keep herself from cleaving Denton's craven head from his equally craven body. “I see. Since you're still standing and had the good sense to surrender, I'm going to assume you to be smarter than your slain company, Denton. So I don't doubt for a moment that you will heed my words when I tell you to leave this place and go back to wherever it was you came from, if you value your life. Are my words understood?”

Denton nodded enthusiastically, eyes bulged and still fixed upon the shimmering Valyrian steel sword. “A-aye, m'lady!” He was already fleeing. “I'll not be comin' back 'ere!”

Once she was certain of Denton's disappearance, Brienne returned _Oathkeeper_ to its place of rest at her hip, only to bend over and vomit now that her adrenaline had begun to taper off. Afterwards, she opened her eyes to find the boy standing in front of her, unsure of what to make of her appearance, but concerned for her all the same.

Brienne felt her chin quiver at the sight before her. He didn't look a day older than five, perhaps six, years old. Filthy and dressed in ragged clothes that appeared to swallow him, he was looking up at her with big, olive green eyes. Stringy strawberry blond hair hung in his eyes, while his heart-shaped face looked haggard and sickly.

She took a knee before him and offered the scared boy a warm smile. “Seven Blessings to you, lad. Are you hurt?”

The boy remained silent, gesturing instead to his forehead.

Brienne slowly reached out to touch the boy's forehead, her palm combing back his filthy bangs to reveal a rather large cut above his left brow, the edges red with infection. “We'll need to get that treated so you can feel better, lad.”

“Awe yew...awe yew a boy or girl?” he asked then, his big eyes fixated on Brienne's face, unsure of what to make of her.

“A girl,” smiled Brienne.

“But yew has a swod,” replied the boy whilst pointing at the ornate sword at her hip. “Only boys has swods.”

“I'm not like other girls,” Brienne replied, still smiling. “Can you tell me your name, sweetling?”

“Olivar...,” the boy murmured.

“Hello, Olivar. I'm Lady Ser Brienne Lannister of Tarth.”

“Big name,” said Olivar behind a sheepish hint of a smile.

“ _Seven Hells – Brienne!”_

Brienne turned to confront the frantic-sounding voice, only to find Jaime walking with haste towards her, his eyes bulged and frantic. “Jaime?”

The lion wasted no time in drawing his arms around his lady-wife, his hand finding and caressing the back of her head. “There you are. Fuck, I was beginning to worry that something terrible had befallen you. Are you--” Jaime suddenly grew quiet.

Picking up on his confusion and sudden alarm, Brienne spoke before her lord husband could utter so much as another word. “I was getting some air when I heard a commotion back here. What sounded like two drunk men. I didn't think much of it initially, but then I heard this boy pleading for help.”

“Brienne...you didn't.” Jaime stated as he caught sight of the dead man on the ground. “Please tell me you--”

Their eyes met. Brienne's grew moist and her tone became frantic. “They-they were going to hurt him, Jaime. Kill him, even. As a knight, I had to make sure that didn't happen! I swore a sacred vow, damn it!” Her moist eyes became a river of tears streaming down her face. “I know I'm stupid for putting our baby's life in danger, but I h-had to do s-something!”

Jaime held her even more tightly as she cried hard into his shoulder, his hand once again finding the back of her head. He buried his face into her crown of pale blonde hair and kissed her there. “Shhh, it's all right. It's all right... I understand,” he soothed. “You did what you felt needed to be done and saved this boy's life. But gods, Brienne,” Jaime snuggled her, “why in Seven Hells didn't you come get me, love? Especially in your condition.”

“It would have been too late!” Brienne argued.

“Fair enough. But should something like this happen again, gods forbid, you tell me and I'll handle it. Please, Brienne?”

He felt her nod against him.

Eventually, Brienne's hard sobs became nothing more than brief sniffles until she felt calm enough to come from Jaime's arms so she could introduce him to the young boy she'd saved.

“Jaime, I'd like you to meet Olivar,” she said whilst wiping her tear-stained cheeks with the heel of her palm. “Olivar, this is Lord Ser Jaime Lannister.”

Olivar's eyes quickly came alight with utter awe. “It yew!” He took a step forward, brimming with wonder and excitement. “Mumma tol me stowies about you!”

Jaime's interest piqued. “Hm, did she now?” he asked casually before taking a knee in front of the star-struck boy. “Flattering ones, I hope?”

Olivar nodded. “Mmhm! Said you killed Bad King Awries 'cause he was gonna do somtin' bad to evewyone! But then...Mumma said peeble were mean to you 'cause of what you did...”

“What did they do?” asked Jaime even though he already knew the answer, and had known it for some seventeen years.

“They cawed you bad names,” replied Olivar. “But-but...Mumma cawed you somtin' not mean.”

Jaime thought he'd just felt his heart clench ever so slightly. “And what was that, lad?”

“Wionhawt.”

His heart went from feeling as if in a slight clench, to clenching utterly and absolutely in that moment. Jaime forced a hard swallow. “Lionheart...That...That was very kind of your mother, lad. Do give her my thanks.”

Olivar's eyes grew big with tears. “M-mum-ma d-din't w-wake u-up...”

Jaime reached out to take the boy's shoulder and drew a breath to speak when he suddenly caught a whiff of piss. Being in such close proximity to him, Jaime could see the large dark spot on the crotch of Olivar's ragged breeches where he had soiled himself. Olivar looked down at Jaime, his eyes big and wet and red.

Jaime regarded the boy with sympathy and a smile. “It's okay to be scared. That means you aren't a fool. Why, even grown men have been known to piss themselves in the thick of battle sometimes. Or worse.”

“Even yew?”

Jaime caught Brienne's lips curving into a gentle smile while her eyes urged him to continue to connect with the young boy.

“...Even me,” Jaime eventually replied, remembering his first true taste of battle. “I was fifteen, an odd time in a man's life, to be certain – no longer a boy, yet not quite a man grown -- and serving as squire to Ser Barristan Selmy. As a young boy, around your age in fact, I dreamt of becoming just like him when I grew up, so you can imagine my excitement over serving as his squire. I didn't want to disappoint him. One day, Ser Barristan and I, along with Ser Arthur Dayne and several others, were dispatched to quell the Kingswood Brotherhood. I remember being wound so tight that I pissed myself afterwards.”

The lion and the boy shared a chuckle over Jaime's telling of his boyhood tale, and Brienne felt her smile brighten all the more whilst her left hand came to rest against her belly and pictures of their children danced across her mind.

In that moment, she had made her choice. “May I speak with you, husband?” she asked of Jaime.

Jaime stood. “You may, yes.” he replied before looking down at Olivar. “Don't move from that spot, all right?”

Olivar simply nodded, his bare feet rooted into place.

“We cannot leave him here like this, Jaime,” Brienne began once she and Jaime were some distance away, her voice but a whisper. “The realm is no place for a lone, tender age child to be.”

“You're right, I reckon. However,” Jaime replied, his brow furrowing. “who's to say the boy isn't a snitch? Need I remind you of the old farmer?”

They'd encountered the old man during their trek across the Riverlands. Like Olivar, that farmer also appeared harmless, and had even engaged them in short conversation before going on his way. Brienne, true to her staunch moral compass, had blatantly refused Jaime's calls for her to kill the man, believing him to be nothing more than a simple farmer. He'd turned out to be a snitch, having alerted Locke and his Brave Companions that he'd encountered the fugitive Kingslayer being escorted by a hulking blonde woman clad in armor...

“A snitch? I know you don't really believe that, Jaime. Not after all he's told us already. Are we not sworn to protect the innocent?”

Jaime glanced down briefly at the soft swell beneath Brienne's gambeson before reaching out to caress it against his palm. “We are, yes. This one most of all.” He traced his thumb across it for emphasis before returning his gaze to Brienne's face. “But when all is said and done and my body lies stinking in the earth, I want House Lannister's name to have meant something other than gold, power, and deceit. I want it to have meant honor and just compassion. So, I suppose what I'm trying to say is, the lad comes with us. Are you in agreement, my lady wife?”

Brienne simply smiled in agreement.

“Now then,” Jaiime announced before taking Brienne's hand into his and moving into a slow walk back to their newest companion. “I think it would be best if we settled here for the night. And by this time on the morrow, we will have reached Casterly Rock.”

Once they were back with Olivar, Brienne took a knee before him. Jaime's chest tightened at the sight of Brienne bearing the boy the biggest, brightest, most joyous smile he'd ever seen. A smile not unlike the same one she wore in the moments after he'd knighted her, overcome by the congratulatory applauding of Tyrion and Qyburn. As he looked at her now, her face beaming, Jaime couldn't help but share in the moment.

“Lord Jaime and I will keep you safe now, child. You're coming with us to Casterly Rock.” Brienne proclaimed before hoisting the boy into her arms and coming to her feet.

She stole a tender look from the little boy whose arms were wrapped around her neck, clinging to her for dear life; she felt her heart swell for the poor orphan child, and her already burgeoning maternal instincts growing stronger still to now protect not only the little lion that slumbered in her womb, but the motherless child in her arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head, Olivar is a ridiculously young boy between 5 and 6 years old and has a bit of a speech impediment -- he has a hard time saying his r's so they end up sounding like w's. He's also horribly illiterate and doesn't speak well, but that's a given based on his circumstances and history. 
> 
> I love him already <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne tend to their newest traveling companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's everyone? I'm back with another chapter for your enjoyment. And for this chapter, the Fluff Train has just pulled into the station! All aboard, y'all! CHOO! CHOO! :D 
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone who left comments and/or given kudos thus far. Keep it up. It gives me life and reason to keep writing!

“I need to put some more of the stingy stuff on you, little one,” Brienne said behind a gentle voice. She sat cross-legged with Olivar and Jaime on the wooden floor of what were to be their quarters for the night, a small jar of salve resting on her knee while Jaime held the boy in one arm. A small fire burned in the hearth, her fires casting a soft amber glow across Olivar's dirty, tear-stained face.

“I know you're scared lad, but this will make you all better, I promise. Ready?” asked Jaime.

Olivar managed a timid nod. Brienne applied the salve with deftness, her heart wrenching at the child's muffled cry. “I know, love. I know. I'm almost finished.”

Afterwards, Brienne checked her work with a critical eye. “All done! See, we knew you could do it,” she smiled before closing the jar up tight and placing it back in the satchel.

While she stood, Jaime still sat on the floor with young Olivar. He reached for the sheathed dagger at his hip, only to hand it to the boy. “My House has a saying, lad. _'A Lannister Always Pays His Debts.'_ I want you to have this dagger and think about what it is I can do to repay you for your bravery. Understand?” smiled Jaime.

Olivar gazed at the sheathed dagger adorned with a lion head on the pommel before averting his gaze elsewhere. “...But..I dun know how to fight, Wod Jammie.”

Jaime smiled at Olivar. “Not _yet_ you don't, lad. But there's something there, otherwise you wouldn't have survived all by yourself for this long. My lady-wife and I will teach you.”

Olivar had tried his best to explain himself to Jaime and Brienne over dinner of herb-roasted partridge, roasted potatoes and berry tarts for dessert. He'd been alone for a little over a year after his mother, who had worked as a serving woman at another tavern down the road, had been gang raped and killed right in front of him in their own home after she had initially fought off the aggressive advancements of one particularly drunk patron one night during a storm. Shortly after she returned home from work, the drunk patron from earlier kicked in the door, surrounded by five of his traveling companions.

They forced him to watch while they took turns passing his mother around as if she were a simple possession. Afterwards, her purpose to them fulfilled, one of the men sliced her throat to the bone.

They left him alone as he watched his mother bleed out on the cold ground. He'd been on his own ever since.

Brienne had stacked their empty plates outside the door and was currently on her knees next to the small basin that had been brought up earlier from downstairs along with their supper, her hand submerged and checking the temperature of the water.

Jaime came to his feet, holding Olivar in one arm. “Almost time for your bath, lad. I can see by the look on your face that you've wanted one of these for a long time,” chuckled Jaime before settling Olivar down to sit on the bed behind Brienne.

Jaime turned to face her. Her head was flush with the crotch of his breeches and he had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep the carnal thoughts from taking root inside his head, and the desire to act upon such thoughts from settling deep in his belly. He cleared his throat and moved to another part of the small room. “Almost ready?”

Brienne stood, her shirt damp and clinging to every one of her new curves. _“_ It is, yes.” she replied, her gaze finding Jaime's. The rouge came to life from her neck to her cheeks once she realized he wanted her then and there. And she would have gladly accepted, if not for the small child in the room. She crossed it to stand in front of her sexually tortured lord husband.

“Don't worry,” she whispered. “I feel it, too.” Brienne placed a chaste kiss upon the biting stubble of his cheek. “It'll happen, love. Just try to hang on a bit longer.”

Jaime gulped down the hard lump in his throat, but that did nothing to curb the one in his breeches. “I-I should leave so you can give the boy a bath, w-wife,” he stammered.

Brienne chuckled in her throat and kissed him again, this time on the tip of his nose. “This won't take long, husband. Now off with you,” she told him.

As he turned to leave, Jaime felt a playful swat on his ass before hearing the door creak closed behind him. It took his every ounce of restraint to keep himself from coming then and there, Brienne's playful gesture having sent a jolt through him from head to toe. His gaze darted from left to right down the cramped hall as he tried to remember where the single guest privy was, his mind and body a mess of frantic energy screaming for release.

Once Jaime had found the privy – it was unoccupied, thank the bloody gods, but smelled as if the Stranger itself had just recently moved its preternatural bowels – he promptly bolted the heavy door shut and began fumbling with the laces of his breeches with his hand. But thanks to his thoughtful, caring wife who had shown him an easier way to tie – and untie – the laces of his breeches and shirts, Jaime managed to unlace his breeches without issue, and promptly took himself into his hand...

* * *

Olivar snuggled deep into the bed pillows, sleepy from the heavy meal in his belly and the bath Brienne had just given him. She'd given him one of her shirts to wear to bed, which given their great difference in size, made the boy look more like a potato sack with a human head poking out the top, and belted it with a simple ribbon of cloth. It would have to do until more form-fitting clothing could be acquired for him.

“Bwienne...?” he asked shyly while Brienne was busy tucking him in for the night.

She stopped, meeting his gaze with her own. “Yes, sweetling?”

“Can yew...tell me a stowey?” asked Olivar, adding, “Like Mumma did...”

Brienne's lips curved into a soft, amicable smile. “Of course I can, love. Just let me finish tucking you in, okay?”

Olivar nodded.

After finishing tucking him in, Brienne sat next to him on the bed. “What story would you like me to tell you, hm?”

Olivar thought about it long and hard, his gaze focused upwards. “I...dunno,” he said shyly.

Brienne's eyes sparkled with an idea. “I know just the one!” she smiled. “It's from my home. Let's see...”

She appeared to be thinking about it even though the tale was virtually ingrained into her memory. “There once lived a man named Ser Galladon of Morne. Ser Galladon was a knight, but not just any knight, sweetling. He was known far and wide as the Perfect Knight.”

“Wike yew and Wod Jammie?” asked Olivar.

It was all Brienne could do to keep from crying, her chin quivering as she reached to caress Olivar's crown of soft curls. “Yes, my sweet boy. Like me and Lord Jaime,” she replied before resuming the story.

“It's said that Ser Galladon's valor was so great, that the Maiden fell in love with him. She loved him so truly that she gave him a a magic sword, which Galladon called the _Just Maid_.”

“Wike yours?”

Brienne chuckled. “How do you know my sword is magical?” she replied with a grin.

“'Cause it's shiny!” beamed Olivar in response.

Brienne's chuckle turned into a laugh. “Yes, he is definitely that, my little love!”

“He?” asked Olivar, curious. “What's his name?”

“I like to think of the sword as a 'he' because of who gifted it to me, yes. I named it _Oathkeeper,”_ Brienne replied, still remembering that moment as if it had happened only moments ago.

Olivar looked on expectantly.

“Lord Ser Jaime gifted it to me, for a very important reason,” Brienne smiled. _Just like his heart... “_ But that's for another story entirely, I'm afraid,” she added with a sympathetic pat to the boy's leg before resuming her island's tale of legend. “As for _this_ story, legend has it that the _Just Maid_ was so mighty, no sword nor shield could stand against her. It's said that Ser Galladon only unsheathed the sword three times, and never against a mortal man, for the fight would have been unfair. However, it is said that Ser Galladon actually slayed a dragon with her.”

“A dwagon?” asked Olivar, his question punctuated by a hearty yawn.

“Yes, love,” Brienne replied. She reached to stroke his cheek. “But that, too, is another story entirely. It's getting late and I can see that you're very tired.”

“But I'm--” another yawn, his eyes were heavy. “--not...”

Brienne gently ruffled his hair. “Sleep now, child. Tomorrow is another day...”

She eventually stood once Olivar dozed off, his breathing soft and even. As Brienne held the slumbering boy in her gaze, however, she soon felt a single hand draw around her waist and begin to cradle the soft swell of her cub.

“Seven Hells, Jaime!” Brienne gasped before settling in his embrace. “It's almost as if you _want_ to send me into early childbed.”

Jaime nuzzled her strong neck as his hand began to roam around her midsection. “Pregnancy has made you startle easily, it seems. Among other things...” He kissed her neck with a passion reserved for more private accommodations, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the two of them were far from alone. “...And for the record, even though you are only four moonturns, the longer our little lion stays inside of you, the better.”

Brienne cocked a brow, side-eyeing him with interest. “Wishing to keep me barefoot and pregnant, is that it?” she asked with a slight grin.

Jaime uttered a soft chuckle, his hand still tracing playfully along the soft swell of her stomach. “No. But the gods know I would be lying if I said I didn't find you to be absolutely fuckable right now...”

Brienne couldn't stop the rouge from spreading from her forehead to her neck in response to everything that was Jaime Lannister; yet, she managed to steel herself in spite of the carnal warmth that had begun to pool deep in her loins. “...Not here, Jaime. Not in front of the boy.”

Almost. In addition to startling easier, pregnancy had also begun to change nearly everything that was Brienne Lannister of Tarth in ways she'd never before experienced. Jaime's languidly roaming hand sent jolts through her body, making her inner thighs tremble and womanhood shudder in need of him.

Spurred on by the continued wandering of Jaime's hand – and now his stump – across her body, Brienne suddenly spun around in his embrace to face him, her hands claiming either side of his face while her lips claimed his own in kiss that she hoped would be enough to tell him just how much she wanted him in this moment.

“Brienne...,” Jaime gasped, breathless from their kiss. Her gaze upon him was half-lidded, her sapphire eyes were smoldering and such a dark shade of blue they were nearly black, her pupils blown with lust. He looked over her shoulder at young Olivar as he slept, then returned his gaze to his wife. “We don't have to if you're worried about the boy, love...”

Brienne kissed him again, deeper this time and with the slightest hint of tongue. Jaime felt his cock twinge in response.

And then it was over just as quickly as it had begun, Brienne having ended their kiss with a look of guilt upon her plain face. “Gods, Jaime. I...I want you so badly. Truly I do. But I...”

Jaime cupped her cheek with his hand, his thumb rubbing the apple of her cheek. “You don't have to say anything, love,” he smiled. “I understand. But rest assured,” a decidedly impish grin cocked one corner of his mouth then. “Once we get to Casterly Rock, as your lord-husband, I'm forbidding you leave from our bedchambers for a sennight so we can fuck each other so much that they'll write and sing songs about it... ' _The Lusty Lion and His Lady Wife'_ has a nice ring to it, don't you think?”

“Jaime!” Brienne said, aghast, even though the large grin on her face said otherwise. “I don't want songs sung about our...”

“Say it, Brienne,” grinned Jaime in an attempt to provoke her. “Say ' _fucking'._ ”

“No!” Brienne replied, her smile spreading from ear to ear as a laugh escaped her.

“Brienne,” Jaime stated. “Say it. The lad's asleep, he can't hear you. Please?” he begged, giving his wife a pouty look.

Brienne rolled her eyes and sighed. “You really are pathetic, you know that?” she snorted. “I don't want people to sing songs about our _fucking_. There, are you satisfied?”

“For now,” grinned Jaime before he took Brienne once more into his arms and kissed her.

“It's getting late, Jaime, we really should be getting to bed now,” Brienne noted afterwards.

Jaime relaxed his arms around her waist. “You take the bed with the lad, my lady. I'll sleep on the floor.”

Brienne frowned and was about to speak in protest, but Jaime silenced her with a gentle kiss to her cheek. “It's for the best, love. I'll be fine,” he said.

Brienne nodded and kissed her lion in return before moving to carefully sit on the bed so as to not wake Olivar even though he was in a deep sleep and drooling on his pillow. As she began to undo the laces on the front of her gambeson, Brienne briefly glanced up to find Jaime's eyes staring down at her intently.

“See something you like, husband?” she mused, her fingers continuing to move down the laces.

“Indeed, wife,” replied Jaime before kneeling between her legs that seemed to go on for miles. He began to stroke her knee with his thumb, tracing it with lazy circles. “But suffice to say my desire for you will have to wait. However, I'd be remiss if I failed to bade our little lion goodnight.”

Brienne smiled upon undoing the final tie and shrugged out of the chainmailed garb. She pulled her shirt from her breeches and lifted the hem to rest beneath her breasts.

Jaime pressed his cheek against the soft swell of their cub and began to lovingly purr against it. “Hello, my little lion or lioness. It's your lord-papa. You had quite an adventure with Mumma today, didn't you?” he asked.

Brienne chuckled, finding the sight endearing. Her fingers combed through her husband's shaggy dirty blond locks.

“Nothing to say, hm?” Jaime said. “You're quiet just like Mumma.”

“Don't worry, they won't be for much longer, love,” Brienne said, surmising she would soon be able to feel the baby move within her. “And once that happens, you'll be the first to know about it.”

“I would certainly hope so,” said Jaime before returning his focus to Brienne's pregnant belly. He purred and nuzzled his nose and cheek against it once more before kissing a spot to the side of Brienne's navel. “Goodnight, my little lion. Papa loves you.”

There was no one alive in the Seven Kingdoms that had to tell Jaime Lannister twice – he would make certain that this child – _his_ child – knew he loved it with every fiber of his mortal being.

From this day, to his last day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned in the end notes for last chapter, in my head, Olivar talks with a speech impediment and so has trouble saying certain words properly. Brienne's and Jaime's names are no exception. "Bwienne" was easy since his r's (and L's) sound like w's, but coming up with an Olivar-centric pronunciation for Jaime was a bit tricky. In my head, Ollie's unable to say the name properly (Jay-mee) so instead he says "Jammie" (like, "put your jammies on!")


	4. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne finally reach Casterly Rock; Brienne meets the "other" side of the Lannister pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, my lovelies! I'm back with a new chapter! I promise we'll get to the other major players in the story soon, lol. However, this IS a JB-centric story so... 
> 
> At any rate, let's keep this story rolling!

Jaime awoke well before the first light of the next morning, feeling as if he'd slept on a rock. Of course, having decided to sleep on the hard wood floor of their room, it was no wonder why his back felt stiff with ache. But that wasn't the only reason for his early awakening. The other reason was currently asleep in the bed above him, with a boy snuggled into her body, snoring softly and drooling on her shoulder. While Jaime didn't bear the boy any grievances for being where _he_ was supposed to be, Jaime did bear a terrible ache in his heart over being without the safety, comfort and contentedness of Brienne's arms around him as he slept. Without her near, he was restless.

Once he was on his feet, Jaime stretched away what kinks and knots he could from his neck, shoulders and back, only to wince as he bent to reach for his sword resting against the foot of the bed. At forty years old, Jaime Lannister was no longer the spry golden lion he'd been in his youth; the campaigns he'd fought in over the years, as well as time itself, had both made sure to fuck him over in equal measure. As he worked to buckle his sword belt around his waist – Brienne had yet to figure out an easier way for him to do so – the sharp pain radiating down his mid and lower back forced Jaime to think about matters younger men took for granted – _How am I to keep up with our children when I'm stiff with ache, much less protect them?_

Flustered from fighting with his belt, Jaime threw it on the table in a huff and grabbed his red leather doublet from the back of the chair where it hung, slipped it on and headed for the door.

Jaime tromped down the tavern inn stairs and made for the small kitchen, where a rather portly, middle-aged woman was already hard at work preparing the morning meal, her big hands working in a pile of dough. Jaime tossed a few coins atop the large wooden table in the center of the cramped room, startling the woman.

“Aye!” she grumbled before pulling her hands from the dough and turning to confront the sudden sound. Once she saw who it was, however, her tone quickly sweetened. “Ah, m'lord Lannister. Seven blessins' to ya this morning. I'm afraid breakfast is a ways off, though.” Her gaze drifted down to the coins on the table.

“I understand the owner of this place has been having troubles with a tender aged orphan boy for quite some time. Is that right?” Jaime asked.

“Aye, m'lord. Wretched little ruffian's been stealin' our foodstuffs. Me husband had finally had enough and paid to have the little urchin taken care of.”

She'd said it with a queer sense of both pride and nonchalance that made the hairs on the back of Jaime's neck bristle in anger. He gestured to the coins on the table. “I see... From now on, the boy's well-being is on me, and as your liege lord, you'll obey my command and allow him adequate food and shelter until a more proper home can be found for him. You'll not lay a hand on the boy, nor will you acquire sellswords or others of such ilk to do it for you. If you value everything you and your husband have built upon this earth, I suggest you comply with your lord's commands. Do you understand?”

The woman simply stood there in shocked silence, her mouth agape, until her words eventually found her again. "Aye, m'lord."

"Good, now that that's out of the way, I'll be needing your stock of leftover berry tarts for my journey home. My lady wife simply can't get enough of them."

  
  


* * *

  
  


True to Jaime's word, the small party finally arrived at Casterly Rock, the crown of the Westerlands, just as twilight had begun to fall over the mighty cliff-side stronghold jutting high into the air overlooking nearby Lannisport. Jaime filled his lungs with the salty air blowing off the waters of the Sunset Sea, invigorated by the wind in his face and combing through his hair, while Brienne sat atop her horse astride him, her face glowing from both the light of the setting sun and the grandeur of the sight before her eyes. 

Ollivar had spent most of the day's ride taking in the many sights or dozing off in the crook of Brienne's arm. “Wake up, sweet boy. You simply must see this,” she said in awe.

A sumptuous castle, Casterly Rock was built into an immense rock formation that sprawled across a wide promontory some two leagues long, overlooking the vast Sunset Sea. As they rode towards it, their horses trudging up steep, twisting pathways wide enough for twenty riders to ride abreast, Jaime offered his lady wife and their companion a brief history lesson about his childhood home.

“It's believed that the Rock is named after the family that ruled it during the Age of Heroes, the Casterlys. We Lannisters, however, date our rule of the Rock back to Lann the Clever, who, legends say, used only his wits to swindle the Casterlys out of their castle and claim it for himself.” Jaime then gave the bleary-eyed child a sideways glance and grinned. “Legend also has it that the spirit of Lann the Clever still haunts the castle to this day. That means you should always be on your best behavior, lad...”

As she felt Olivar cling to her in fear, Brienne glared over at her impish lord husband and promptly chastised him. “Jaime! I'll not have you filling the boy's head with nightmares tonight!”

Jaime simply chuckled. “Oh, come now, love. I was merely jesting with the lad. Besides, it's just a silly legend conjured up by taletellers.”

“Wike the tings bewond the wall?” asked Olivar, suddenly awake. “ The gwumkins and snots.”

This time, Jaime laughed, his glee bouncing off the high, cavernous stone walls. “Yes, lad. Like the Grumkins and Snarks beyond the Wall.”

Once the main entrance into the castle, the Lion's Mouth, came into view, however, the lion's jovial mood quickly faded, and turned Jaime Lannister back into the straight-faced, no-nonsense Lord of the Rock, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, and Warden of the West once more as he willed his horse to a stop before the small party that had gathered to welcome him home.

Jaime's uncle, Ser Kevan Lannister, was the first to welcome his nephew back home after years spent within the confines of the capital, bound to his duty as a Kingsguard. Ser Kevan was joined by his sister and Jaime's aunt, Lady Genna Lannister, as well as Casterly Rock's Master-at-Arms and Jaime's childhood friend, Ser Addam Marbrand. As younger brother to the mighty Tywin Lannister, Kevan had spent much of his life – gladly – in the shadows of his brother, but was fiercely loyal to Tywin all the same. He was perfectly content with being a follower as opposed to a leader like Tywin was, and had been from an early age. While Kevan bore a similar build to Tywin, he was slightly shorter, somewhat portly, and not quite as broad in the shoulders. Like his brother, however, Kevan also wore a stern expression on his weathered face at all times and rarely strayed from presenting himself as ruthless and intimidating even though he was far less so than Tywin. 

After Jaime assisted Olivar and Brienne in dismounting from atop the latter's horse, Jaime presented his lady wife and their young companion before Kevan, Addam and Genna. “If it pleases you all, I'd like you to meet my lady wife and the first-ever female knight, Lady Ser Brienne of House Tarth,” he said with a proud, beaming smile that told those in attendance that he truly felt like the luckiest one-handed man in Westeros.

Ser Addam Marbrand, the accomplished swordsman and heir of House Marbrand of Ashmark, was the first to greet the blushing Brienne by taking her hand and placing a gentle kiss on top of it. “It gives me great pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady ser. My name is Ser Addam Marbrand.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, Ser Addam,” Brienne replied with a shy smile.

Addam was a handsome, rangy man with dark copper-colored hair that fell just below his shoulders. He wore lustrous bronzed armor, with the burning tree sigil of House Marbrand etched upon his breastplate, and a smoke gray cloak. As a child, Addam had served as a page at Casterly Rock, and, as they were similar in age, became fast friends with the young Jaime Lannister, a bond that still had yet to be broken.

“You must be quite brave and skilled to have earned such rank and prestige, my lady ser,” added Addam inquisitively. While there was no formal law forbidding women from pursuing nor attaining knighthood, the practice of doing so simply hadn't been done and was quite frankly seen as absurd by lords across Westeros. “Perchance you could tell me who anointed you?”

Jaime took a proud step forward. “I did.”

Addam grinned at Brienne. “You must be truly exquisite, then. I should like to partake in a dance with you in the training yard, my lady ser...,” his eyes fell to her midsection and the slight swell there. “After the little lion comes roaring in the world, of course.”

“And I should like to see my lady wife knock you into the dirt, by far,” snorted Jaime before moving on with the introductions.

Before he could speak, however, his corpulent yet shapely aunt, the Lady Genna Lannister, reached up to lovingly pinch her nephew's ear hidden by the shag of his long hair. “You're still as handsome as ever, my lovely boy!” she cooed.

Brienne had never seen Jaime Lannister blush before. Until now, that was, as his face turned a deep shade of Lannister red while his aunt continued to fuss over him.

And she found it positively endearing.

“So you're the lady who was able to bring the mighty Lion of Lannister to heel...” mused Genna once she was finished fussing over her nephew. She looked Brienne over from head to toe with a critical eye and for a moment, Brienne remembered her first time meeting Lady Olenna Tyrell that day in the gardens of the Red Keep with Jaime. Genna gave her a similar vibe, but would she sing Brienne's praises, just as Olenna had so quickly done?

Suddenly, Brienne found herself releasing a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding upon seeing Genna smile, her green eyes alight with approval, then became positively surprised when Genna collected her into her big flabby arms for a hug. Brienne had no choice but to bend to meet her.

“Welcome to the family, my dear,” she heard Genna whisper into her ear. “I've never seen Jaime so happy.”

Brienne felt her heart triple in size against her chest and her eyes start to burn with tears. She gulped them back. “Thank you, my lady. And I've never been so happy,” she replied, her voice on the verge of breaking.

Once she'd returned to Jaime's side, Brienne couldn't mistake the sudden shift in the air, as both Kevan's and Genna's eyes shifted downwards to the little boy peeking his head out from behind Jaime's leg.

Jaime, noticing right away the looks of disapproval on his uncle's and aunt's face, rested his hand atop Olivar's head and, as the new Lord of the Rock, issued his first command. “This is Olivar, an orphan Brienne saved during our stay in Doggett. He is to be fostered here until a proper home can be found for him, and treated as an honored guest.”

Kevan quickly spoke out in protest. “Your father will not approve of this...lowborn child wandering the grounds of Casterly Rock.”

"He will, yes. Of that I have no doubt,” Jaime replied. “But he's not here to complain about it now, is he?”

While Kevan, ever faithful to his older brother, was against the idea of a commoner roaming the halls of Casterly Rock, his sister Genna proved to be a bit more amenable when it came to making the small boy feel welcome, beckoning him to her with a wag of her finger. “To me, child.”

Olivar clung more tightly to Jaime's leg, prompting the large woman to laugh and try again. “Don't be shy, lad. I won't hurt you,” she said softly.

Olivar looked up at Jaime, then over at Brienne. She was nodding with encouragement.

“Go on, lad,” coaxed Jaime with a friendly smile on his face.

Olivar came out from behind Jaime's leg and approached Genna with caution, his small steps deliberate and unsure. Yet Genna remained patient with the strange child, and once he was standing in front of her, she promptly began making a fuss over him like she'd done with Jaime, Cersei, and Tyrion when they were small – and Tywin had positively despised it, believing showing such false praise only helped to weaken the spirit. “Such a good boy you are!”

Kevan could only scoff at his sister, while Addam remained indifferent and, just a little distracted – he hadn't been able to take his eyes off Brienne since he first laid eyes on her!

Genna held Olivar by the hand and turned to head back inside the castle. “Come child, I'll show you to your rooms and then have the cooks prepare for you whatever you like –“ her voice began to fade, “you're skin and bones, lad, and a growing boy needs to eat so he can grow up to be big and strong!”

Addam managed to peel his eyes away from Brienne long enough to bade his friend and his lady wife goodbye before he, too, made his exit, leaving Kevan alone with Lord and Lady Lannister.

Kevan cleared his throat. “Leave be the horses. Dennas, the master of horse, will tend to them, my lord. There are far more pressing matters in need of discussion, I'm afraid.”

Jaime and Brienne shared a tense look at each other as Kevan began making his way toward the doors before reaching for each other's hand and following him inside...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first time writing for Addam, Kevan and Genna. I sincerely hope I've been able to sorta stay in character...


End file.
